


Jackie Whittemore, Fantastic Bitch

by amusewithaview



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always the Opposite Sex, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Genderswap, Jackson just needs a hug, Rebel without a cause - Freeform, Rule 63, Teen Angst, Unhappily Adopted, and lots of therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-18
Updated: 2012-04-17
Packaged: 2017-11-03 20:36:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/385672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amusewithaview/pseuds/amusewithaview
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She doesn't need your love, but you're gonna want her anyways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meet Jackie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BdrixHaettC](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BdrixHaettC/gifts).



> INSPIRED by the fantabulous fanart of BdrixHaettC, specifically this picture:  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/334745/chapters/541097

Jackie liked pleated skirts and thick-soled boots. Jackie liked angry girl rock from the early nineties. Jackie liked button-up shirts and thick leather belts. Jackie liked eating lollipops slowly, one lick at a time. Jackie liked fucking with people's heads, just to watch them squirm.

Her parents were never around, her _adoptive_ parents, that is. She sometimes wondered why the fuck they'd bothered to take her in if they were only ever going to be, at best, indifferent to her existence. She'd asked about it, once, just after her twelfth birthday.

“You complete our lives, sweetheart,” her mother had answered, fondly combing her fingers through Jackie's long, thick, dirty-blonde hair. Then she was out the door with her father, off to (yet another) conference on god-fucking-knows-what, god-fucking-cares-where.

Jackie had cut all her hair off that night.

They didn't want a kid, they wanted an _image_ and instead of trying to conform, she decided to rebel. She wouldn't be the sweet, teenage queen of the school, Lydia already looked like she'd be filling that role more than adequately. Jackie liked sports, but she didn't want to be just another jock. Or just another brain.

 _Screw it,_ twelve-year-old Jackie Whittemore though, _I'll keep 'em all guessing._

When she cut her hair short and wore combat boots, boys started calling her a dyke. She added short skirts to the rotation, and they called her a tease. She blossomed into everything her adolescent self wanted to be: wanted, but never had; desirable, but never desiring; she was the school bitch, and she earned her title fair and square.


	2. See Jackie Hurt(ing)?

“Um, this is the guys' locker room.”

Jackie looked up and found Scott McCall staring fixedly at a point over her left shoulder. She continued to watch him as she slowly wound the tape around her ribs. It already covered her bra, so she wasn't really sure why Scott was being so shy. But maybe...

She ripped the tape and finished fixing it, then spat the hem of her shirt out and smoothed it down – slowly. “What's the problem, McCall? Never seen a topless girl before?” Jackie smiled, “Don't worry, you can be honest with me. I won't tell a soul.”

“I've seen plenty of – ”

“Oh, really?” she took a step towards him, smile turning into a fully-fledged smirk when he shifted back, swallowing convulsively. “How many of them were live, and in person... and how many of them were on a computer screen? Scotty, it's okay to admit it. I won't judge. Much.”

“I – you!”

She rolled her eyes and turned away. Baiting him was too easy, not enough challenge in it. “Relax, McCall. I was just leaving, anyways. I'll wait for Danny outside, wouldn't want to mess up your perfect virgin streak.”

“I'm n-not a – ”

She cut him off with a look that instantly made him drop his eyes to the floor. “Yeah, that's what I thought.”

...

Danny was being especially quiet today.

“What's wrong?”

“What? Oh, nothing. Just thinking.”

She looked at him expectantly. “About?”

He smiled, shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road. Classic Danny-delaying tactics.

“Come on, out with it. Something's obviously bugging you.”

“I heard about what happened. In the locker room.”

“What, you mean McCall? I was just messing with him.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So...what's bothering you about it?”

“I just don't get... _why_.”

“What do you mean, _why?_ He was there.”

Danny shrugged, “It just bothered me.”

“Yeah, I'm getting that. I'm not getting _why_ it bothers you. I like screwing with what passes for his mind. There's not much to get, there.”

“I just don't get why you would want to.”

“Because I –” _Because I can._

“Yeah,” Danny said, pulling his eyes from the road long enough to give her one look, loaded with meaning. “Exactly. You weren't always like this, Jackie. I guess I'm just starting to wonder when you started to change, that's all.”

She stared at him, “Who says I changed?”

“I do.”

The rest of the ride passed in silence, broken only when Danny pulled up beside her house.

“Look, I just...” he sighed, scrubbing one hand through his hair. “Remember when I came out, and you threatened everyone who even looked like they _might_ fuck with me?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess I wonder when you became _that_ person.”

“ _What_ person?”

“The one doing the fucking.”

Jackie's jaw worked for a moment as she stared straight ahead through the windshield. “Don't bother picking me up tomorrow, I'll drive myself.” She hopped out of the truck and jerked her backpack up onto her back, ignoring the twinge of her bruised ribs.

“Jackie...”

She didn't look at him because her eyes were prickling, and damned if she'd let him see that he'd made her cry.

...

 

The ringing phone caught her attention a few hours later, halfway through a Die Hard marathon.

“Yeah?”

“Danny says you're not talking to him.”

Jackie held the phone away from her face, just so she could stare at it in complete incredulity. “Lydia?”

“The one and only.”

“Why are you calling me?”

“I just _said_ , Jackson.”

Lydia was the only one who could get away with using her full first name, and she wielded this power like a surgeon would a scalpel: carefully and cuttingly.

“Jackson?”

“Yeah, what?”

Lydia sighed, projecting her annoyance expertly over the phone.

Jackie was, quite suddenly, fed up: “What the fuck do you _want_ , Lyds?”

“Oh, you know, world peace, a doctorate, a rich house-husband with a Masters in early childhood education, and for you to _get over yourself_ , Jackson Whittemore.” Lydia was rolling her eyes, Jackie couldn't see it, but she could practically _feel_ it in the short silence that followed. “Danny is upset because he thinks that _you're_ upset with him and now he's bringing _me_ into it.”

“Then take it up with Danny, not _me_ ,” Jackie snarled, and promptly hung up.

She turned her phone off altogether five minutes later, after the non-stop ringing and buzzing had finally gotten annoying. She'd pay for it tomorrow, but it was sort of nice to have the final word with her on-again, off-again best girlfriend for once.


End file.
